


This Can't Be Happening

by LilisBooks



Category: The Boys (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Butcher is Butcher, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Hughie is stressed, M/M, Marriage of Convenience, No Supes, No betas we die like lamplighter, The Proposal AU, canon typical language, they're editors
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:06:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27615986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilisBooks/pseuds/LilisBooks
Summary: William Butcher is a successful editor who is about to be deported as he faces troubles with his VISA. His assistant, Hughie Campbell, agrees to marry him so Butcher can stay in the country in exchange of a promotion. With Immigration Services doubting them and looking for any indication that what they're doing is fraud, Butcher and Hughie travel to Hughie's hometown for a weekend to celebrate his Grandpa's birthday.Surely nothing will happen while they're there and Immigration Services will believe them, right?
Relationships: Billy Butcher/Hughie Campbell
Comments: 86
Kudos: 114





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> I am on fire with my Butchie fics, really.
> 
> This was born from an idea I had while talking with my friends about Butchie AUs and well, I was watching the movie so I said, why not writing it as I see the movie?
> 
> I tried to stay as true to the characters as possible, but if something's off, I do apologise. I'm still finding my way.
> 
> Also, also, I know I have a history of not finishing the long fics I start (don't check my page) but I promise I'll do my best.

Shit, fuck, goddamint. Hughie was late and when Hughie was late, Butcher was even bitchier than normal. The worst part was that it wasn’t even his fault, partially. Hughie was late because of Butcher, or well Butcher’s coffee that had to have specific requirements or else the older man would scream at him and make him do it from scratch. And Hughie would like to very much avoid all that.

True, his alarm hadn’t gone off when it was supposed to, but after the quickest shower in the history of humankind and a non existent breakfast, Hughie would’ve been right on time if it weren’t for Butcher’s coffee. Luckily, the barista at the coffee shop, Annie, worked quickly, and after a thank you nod, he was off towards the office.

Running as fast as he could, avoiding upcoming cars and traffic, he entered Vought Offices just as the elevator doors were about to close. To his good luck, Marvin Milk, one of his colleagues, saw him and held the door for him.

“Everything alright, Hughie?” MM, as he preferred to be called, asked him.

“Never better,” Hughie answered, lowkey trying to regain his breath.

“You look like hell,” MM said as the elevator started its way up.

“Feels like I’m in it,” Hughie murmured, low enough that he hopped MM wouldn’t catch it, but if the look of concern he sent his way was any indication, Hughie had not been successful.

He sighed, praying that Butcher wouldn’t be at the office for at least another five minutes.

…

Butcher’s day was off to a great start. He had worked out, finished reading the manuscript he had to deliver for printing, and was now talking with Nathan Noir, their most prolific yet reclusive writer. It was a miracle to even get him on the phone, but Butcher will be damned if he didn’t get the man to promote his own books.

“C’mon, mate, you know what an appearance in Oprah will do for your career.”

Nathan said nothing, but that wasn’t unusual. What was unusual was to get him to talk.

“Look, people in this country don’t read, but if someone famous and charismatic enough tells them ‘oi, you need to put your telly, tablet, computer or phone down and read this amazing book by Nathan Noir’, everyone goes crazy and just follows them. Your book will be number one in record time if you do this.”

Nathan just sighed, as if contemplating something. But that was enough to keep Butcher pushing the man. He looked both ways before crossing the street, seeing Vought Tower right across from him.

“Mate, the truth is that every good writer does some sort of publicity if they want their books to sell. Take Ashmore, Ackles and Benson. And you know what else they have in common besides being good? A fucking Pulitzer.”

After a pause, a sigh of defeat was heard across the telephone. And just like that, Butcher knew he had won. The doors of the elevator opened and Butcher entered with a delighted smile on his face.

“I’ll send you the day and time,” was all he said before hanging up.

It was sure shaping up to be a great day.

…

As Hughie entered the office, Maeve greeted him with a sarcastic grin.

“Cutting it close, Hughie,” she said in lieu of a hello.

“One of those mornings,” Hughie replied with a forced smile, “but thank you, Queen Obvious.”

But as he was finishing those words, he stumbled upon a distracted intern, making him spill Butcher’s coffee all over himself and the floor. Hughie was horrified at the sight, and could already hear Butcher's rant when he found out. Luckily, he had a backup plan.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking,” the intern was apologising profusely while looking like a mess. “I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s okay,” Hughie said after taking a deep breath. “I just need your shirt.”

“My… my shirt?” the intern asked, looking down at his white pristine shirt.

“Yes, yes, please give me your shirt so I can wear it and Butcher doesn’t kill me,” Hughie explained as he looked at the intern with what he was sure were crazy eyes.

The intern just sighed but nodded, and Hughie indicated to follow him on his way to Butcher’s office. He set down Butcher’s backup coffee and swap shirts with the intern. As they were exchanging shirts, his phone lit up with a notification from the group chat all workers in the floor had minus Butcher .

“He’s here,” Maeve’s text read, making Hughie’s blood freeze.

He shushed the intern away as he polished the last details of his appearance. He looked around the room, trying to find evidence of anything amiss when he located the coffee he had saved for Butcher. He grabbed it as Butcher entered the office, too preoccupied with looking at his phone.

“Morning,” Hughie said as Butcher approached him to receive his coffee. “You have a morning conference call at 11 about…”

“Yes,” Butcher interrupted him as he sat down on a chair. “The cunts at the top want to talk about the marketing at the spring sign up.”

“There’s also a staff meeting at 9:00 to discuss…”

“Did you call… ah shit what was his name?” Butcher interrupted him before taking a sip of his coffee. “The one with the stupid dolphin obsession.”

“Kevin,” Hughie supplied. 

“That cunt,” Butcher said with a smile, that more than a smile looked like a feral grin.

“Yes, I did,” Hughie replied, ignoring Butcher’s choice of language. “I told him that if he doesn’t have the manuscript ready on time, you won’t give him a release date. Also, your immigration lawyer called. He said it is imperative that…”

“Cancel the call, postpone the meeting to tomorrow and keep the lawyer on the sheets. Also, get a hold of PR and have them start drafting a PR release. Nathan is doing Oprah.”

“Wow, that’s amazing,” Hughie couldn’t help but praise. Nathan Noir was one of the most reclusive writers in existence. Butcher’s accomplishment of getting him into Oprah was huge.

“If I want your praise, I will ask for it,” Butcher said sarcastically.

As Hughie was on his way out, however, Butcher stopped him. Hughie feared the worst.

“Oi, kid. Who is Annie and why does she want me to ‘call her’?”

Hughie’s face turned bright red and dread fell upon him. Slowly, he turned to face Butcher in what he hopped was an inconspicuous look.

“That… that was supposed to be my cup,” Hughie said with a surprisingly stable voice.

“And why am I drinking your coffee, eh mate?” Butcher asked with an amused yet dangerous smile.

“Your coffee spilled.” Hughie said, trembling all over minus the voice.

Butcher’s smile turned into a shit eating grin as he nodded, like in some sort of inner joke with himself. Hughie tried to breathe, to no avail, as Butcher took a second sip to his coffee.

“So you drink Clover Brewed Coffee, three extra shots of espresso, tall at 120 Degrees with no milk and no sugar?” 

“I do,” Hughie said, trying to calm down the anxiety he could feel brewing underneath his skin. “Is safer than cocaine.”

Butcher smiled, less feral and more amused.

“What a coincidence.”

“I know. It’s not like I order the exact same coffee that you do in fear of spilling it on accident or something like that. That, that would be incredibly pathetic, don’t you think?” 

Before Butcher could say anything, the phone rang. Hughie ran to answer it as measured and controlled as possible.

“Morning. William Butcher’s office.” 

“Hey, Hughie,” John Homelander said from the other line, making Hughie’s skin crawl. John Homelander was a senior editor at Vought, but unlike Butcher, his work left some things to be desired. Which was the reason Butcher was the Chief Editor and not Homelander.

“Hey John,” Hughie said with a forced smile. Butcher turned to look at him and made a gesture with his hand, pointing towards Homelander’s office right next to his.

“Is there any chance I could talk to you and Butcher, you see…”

“Actually, we’re on our way right now.”

“Oh, really?” John asked, sounding surprised.

“Yeah,” Hughie said as he hung up and Butcher stood up from the desk, coffee in hand. 

“Why are we going to Homelander's office?”

Butcher said nothing, but his smile looked like that of a psychopathic child who had just murdered their first bird. Hughie didn’t like Homelander, but feared for the other guy. Making his way towards his desk to drop the manuscripts Butcher had given him during their exchange, Hughie took advantage and sent a text to the group chat.

“The asshole is on his way.”

The entire floor went back to perfect positions on their desks as soon as the text appeared on their phones, just as Butcher came out of his office, uncaring about everything around him. Hughie quickly joined him.

“Did you finish the manuscript I gave you?” Hughie asked as they made their way towards Homelander’s office.

“I read a few pages, wasn’t that impressed.”

“Can I say something?”

“No.”

“I’ve read thousands of manuscripts,” Hughie said, ignoring Butcher’s answer. “I’ve never given you one, except for this one. I truly believe there is something special in it and is the kind of novel you used to publish back when…”

“I’m gonna stop you right there, kid and tell you that I ain’t publishing it. Not interested.” Butcher said as they caught the intern with the spilled shirt. Butcher looked at him with an unimpressed look on his face and continued. “And, also, I do think that you order the same coffee as I do in fear of spilling it which is, in fact, absolutely pathetic.”

“Or impressive,” Hughie said, ignoring Butcher’s jab at his recommended manuscript.

“Impress me by not spilling my damn coffee in the first place,” he said right as they approached Homelander’s office. “Remember, you’re nothing but a prop in here.”

“Won’t say a word,” Hughie replied as they entered the office, standing by the door. He tried to make himself as invisible as he could, suspecting what was about to come.

“Ah, but it’s our fearless leader and his lackey. Welcome, make yourselves comfortable.”

“What a beautiful breakfront,” Butcher said as he admired Homelander’s bookcase. “Is it new?”

“It’s English Regency, 1800s, but yes, it is new. In my office, at least,” Homelander said, smiling smugly at Butcher.

“Clever,” Butcher murmured only for Hughie to hear, full of disdain. “John, you’re fired.”

“What?” Homelander asked as all the smugness from his face was replaced by anger and disdain. Hughie never liked when those two fought, so he turned to look at Butcher who appeared like the cat who ate the bird. 

“I ask you countless times to get Nathan to do Oprah and you just couldn’t do it.”

Hughie had just realised the door of the office was opened, so as silently as he could, he closed it. However, he was a bit too late as Maeve, who was near Homelander’s office, was looking at him with her eyes wide open in surprise. Hughie barely shook his head, and Maeve turned back to her work.

If Butcher took notice of the exchange, he said nothing. And Homelander was too busy sending daggers Butcher’s way to notice anything else.

“I have told you countless times, Butcher,” Homelander said with venom in his voice, “that it’s impossible to get Noir to do any sort of publicity. His last interview was 8 years ago.”

“Then how come I just got him this morning to agree to an appearance with Oprah?” Butcher asked smugly as he approached Homelander’s desk.

Hughie could only stand and watch at the two men in front of him barely holding onto professionalism and propriety. The tension in the room was making him want to bolt and never return.

“You never even called him, did you, cunt?”

“How dare you…”

“I know Noir can be a little intimidating for someone like you,” Butcher said, condescendingly. “But since I am very nice, I will give you two weeks to find another job and you get to tell everyone that you resigned cause ‘we didn’t appreciate a man like yourself.’”

With that, Butcher made his way towards the door, not even looking at Hughie. However Hughie knew he didn’t want to stay with Homelander, who was frozen in anger and shock and was visibly shaking with his hands on fists tightly at his side.

“What do you see?” Butcher asked as they walked towards his office.

“He’s pacing, he has an insane look on his face. Oh shit, he’s on his way.”

“Just perfect,” Butcher said with a smile as he continued on his way.

“You, motherfucking asshole.” Homelander screamed as he made his way towards them. Hughie stepped aside, as the whole office turned to look at the exchange. “You can’t fire _me_. You think I don’t see what you’re doing? You’re sandbagging me on this whole deal so the board can look at you and say what a great editor you are?”

Butcher just stood there, trying to conceal his disgust at the man and his amusement at his words. Hughie wanted to disappear onto the wall.

“You are threatened by me,” Homelander continued, ignoring everyone else’s look of disbelief. “And you have nothing against me. I’m untouchable.”

“Just because you have no semblance of life outside of the office doesn’t mean that the rest of us don’t do our jobs the way we’re supposed to.” As Homelander continued, Butcher stopped looking amused and turned to look murderous. “I feel sorry for you, I really do. You should’ve been able to move on and get a life, I mean, Becca…”

The whole office gasped and Hughie felt his heart drop. If there was one taboo topic in the office, it was Becca Butcher. And Homelander being the one saying it, well, it was bound to end bad.

“Shut your fucking mouth before I shut it for you,” Butcher said, approaching Homelander in slow movements. “Don’t you ever dare mention my wife again, or I’ll make you regret ever setting a fucking foot in this office.”

Homelander was still murderous, but he looked apologetic at having crossed the line. But it was too late, and Butcher was having no mercy.

“I didn’t fire you because I feel threatened, you stupid cunt. I fired you because you’re a lazy, entitled and incompetent piece of shit. You spend more time ogling Madelyn Sitwell while she’s breastfeeding than at your office and if you say another fucking word, I’ll have you thrown down on your arse.”

Homelander opened his mouth to reply, but Butcher silenced him with a look.

“Another word, and you’ll be out of here with an armed escort, which Hughie will film with his phone and publish on the internet. Tik Tok, Instagram, YouTube, you name it. Your sorry ass will be everywhere and people will see you for the pathetic cunt that you really are. Is that what you want?”

Homelander said nothing, just looked at Butcher with hatred and nodded. Butcher smiled his characteristic feral smile.

“Didn’t think so,” he said as he turned around. “I have work to do.”

Hughie quickly stood up and followed Butcher, ignoring the looks of everyone at the office was sending their way. Sometimes he wished he had Butcher’s confidence, because asshole or not, Butcher got results and knew it.

“Have security take his breakfront out of his office and move it to my conference room,” Butcher said as they made their way back to his office.

“Done.”

“And I need you around this weekend to help review his files in his manuscripts,” Butcher continued as they entered his office.

Hughie halted at the door, fearing he had heard wrong. 

“This weekend?”

“Is there a problem?” Butcher asked as he turned around and made eye contact with him, making Hughie fight his flinch.

“No, no… Is just that I had asked you to give me the weekend off. It’s my grandma’s 90th birthday and I was gonna go home,” he said but noticed at mid speech that Butcher was already ignoring him again. “No problem, I’ll just cancel… again,” he murmured as he exited the office and closed the door behind him.

Well, that would go over well with his parents for sure.

...

Butcher was contemplating on the recent events and how satisfactory it had been to finally get rid of John Homelander, when a conversation outside his office made him pause and turn around. Not wanting to be noticed, he stood on his door’s frame, hidden from Hughie’s view. The kid was on his desk, hunched over the phone and looking pained and miserable.

“I know, dad, believe me, I know.” Hughie was saying. “Tell Pops I’m sorry but there’s nothing I can do.”

There was a pause and Hughie’s face fell even more. Butcher felt bad for the lad, and he should’ve paid more attention to what he had said about the weekend. Without thinking, he made his way towards the young man.

“Dad… Dad… what do you want me to say? He's making me work on the weekend and I’ve worked way too hard for this job. I know mom is pissed but…” Hughie paused and coughed, tensing immediately. “Here at Vought we take our submissions very seriously sir, so we’ll get back at you as soon as we can.”

As Hughie was hanging up, Butcher found himself troubled. He knew the kid felt bad for cancelling on his family, but Butcher needed him over the weekend to go over Homelander’s work, which was most likely done poorly, so letting the lad go for the weekend was off the table. Besides, family was overrated in Butcher's books.

“Is that your family?” Butcher asked, not knowing what else to say.

“Yep,” Hughie said, not looking up from the phone.

“They told you to quit?”

“Every single week,” Hughie said before a sigh. He stood up and looked at Butcher, ready to tackle the next thing Butcher asked him to do. The phone rang and their eye contact was broken.

“William Butcher’s office,” Hughie said to the phone. “Yeah… oh, yep, okay,” he added as he hung up. He turned to look at Butcher and the sight of Hughie’s eyes made him want to sigh. “Mrs Mallory and Mrs Raynor want to see you in their office.”

“Fucking hell,” he said after a grunt, looking at the time. “Come get me in ten minutes.”

“Okay,” Hughie said as Butcher just walked away. He could feel everyone around him looking his way and gossiping about the exchange between him and Homelander, but he couldn’t give less of a fuck. He was finally free of the cunt and people feared him enough to keep the gossip ‘hidden’ from him.

As he entered Mallory’s office, he mentally checked everything Hughie and he had to do for the day. It would be a long day, but thankfully the lad never complained. He was probably the best assistant Butcher had ever had. Not that he’d ever tell the kid that, it would go to his head and he would start failing just like everyone else always did.

“Morning, Mr Butcher,” Mallory’s assistant greeted him warmly, which he ignored. He was busy and on a schedule. Chit chat was not in it.

“Mallory, Raynor, don’t you two just light up a room,” he said with a smile as he approached Mallory’s desk. Mallory looked not too pleased from where she was sitting behind her desk and Raynor looked downright furious as she sat straight on the couch. However, as far as Butcher was concerned, he had done nothing to warrant those looks.

“Congratulations on Nathan,” is what Mallory said in greeting as Butcher sat down.

“Thank you,” he said with a satisfied smile, ignoring Raynor’s look of anger. “Is this about my second raise?” he asked with a playful smile, trying to ease the tension in the room. He was having such a great morning.

“Butcher,” Mallory said as she unfolded a piece of paper she had on her desk and began to read it. “Do you remember what we agreed on regarding the Frankfurt Fair?”

“What about it?”

“You remember us telling you that couldn’t go because you weren’t allowed out of the country while your VISA application was being processed?” Raynor said as she stood up and went to stand behind Mallory’s desk.

Butcher nodded, vaguely remembering that particular conversation. It had been months ago and he had more important things in mind at the time. Hughie probably remembered. His memory was unlike any other Butcher had seen. “Yes, I do,” he said instead.

“Yet, you still went,” Mallory said, crossing her arms and leaning on her chair, letting go of the letter. Butcher immediately tensed up, knowing that that was Mallory's way of saying ‘you fucked up.’

“We were gonna lose Ezekiel Ashmore to Capes of Christ, so really I had no choice.”

“Well, seems like the United States Government doesn’t care who publishes Ezekiel Ashmore,” Mallory said as she looked at the letter in her hands once more.

“We just spoke with your immigration lawyer,” Raynor added as she leaned on the counter, crossing her arms.

“That’s perfect, so we’re all good, ain’t we?” Butcher said as he relaxed. If they had talked to the lawyer, Butcher was fine and he had nothing to worry about.

“Butcher, your VISA was denied.” Mallory said as she let go of the letter once more, making Butcher’s stomach drop. “And you’re being deported.”

Butcher stood up and looked around, perplexed. This couldn’t be happening, right? Not really. It was a stupid fucking mistake.

“Deported?” He asked, incredulous. “It was a stupid trip, surely we can...”

“Apparently there’s some papers you didn’t fill out on time as well,” Mallory continued, ignoring Butcher’s shocked expression.

“Oh, c’mon, that’s a load of bollocks and you know it,” Butcher said as he regained his ability to speak. “I’m not even a real immigrant, I’m from England, goddamint. We colonised you.” 

“You can reapply in a year,” Raynor said after exchanging a look with Mallory. “Unfortunately, you have to be out of the country for that time.”

“Well, that’s not perfect, but we can work with that,” Butcher said as he sat down once more. “I can video conference from London and with the internet the way it is now, well, the limit is our imagination.”

“You can’t work for an American company from England, Butcher,” Mallory said, exasperated. “Until this is resolved, we’re giving all your work to John Homelander.”

“John Homelander?!?” Butcher exploded, standing up again. “The cunt I just fired for being an incompetent lazy son of a bitch?”

“We need a Chief Editor,” Raynor explained after a sigh, “he’s the only one experienced enough to take on the job.”

“You cannot be serious, Mallory, you seriously can’t.”

“Butcher, we’d do anything to have you stay,” Mallory said, looking him intently in the eyes, “anything. If there was something we could do, we’d be doing it as we speak. But there’s nothing we can do, not really.”

“Well, that can’t be right, there has to be a…” Butcher began saying before a knock on the door interrupted them and Hughie entered the office, looking agitated and out of breath.

“We’re in a meeting,” Raynor said as Hughie entered the office, his head popping out like a meerkat.

“Uhm… I know but...”

“What Hughie, what?” Butcher asked, exasperated at Hughie’s nervousness. Every other day he would’ve let that go, but at the time he had other pressing matters in mind that the kid’s anxiety.

“I’m sorry to interrupt but it was Cleo, from Mesmer’s home.”

“Right,” Butcher said, not really paying attention to what Hughie was saying. “And?”

“She says it's rather urgent and needs to talk to you now.”

“Right, right,” Butcher said, having forgotten he had asked Hughie to come and get him and asking him to stop talking. However Hughie was not taking the hint.

“She sounded desperate about Mesmer, so I told her you’d be right there so…”

As Hughie trailed off and pointed towards the door, Butcher had an idea. Hughie practically did everything Butcher asked so he would play along and do as he was told. He just hopped Mallory and Raynor bought his bullshit. Hughie just looked at him, confusion dawning on him as Butcher stood in the middle of the office looking between the lad and his bosses.

Quietly, Butcher muttered to Hughie to join him in the office. The kid, looking like a lost puppy, slowly walked towards them. Mallory and Raynor exchanged looks, but Butcher ignored them. He needed to sell it.

“Ladies, I understand the predicament we’re in. But I think there’s something you need to know.” Hughie stood right behind him, like usual, but Butcher needed something else, so discreetly, he grabbed Hughie’s hand and made him stand right next to him.

“Hughie and I, we’re getting married.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Butcher is Butcher, and yeah, in a normal office, his language wouldn't be allowed, but well. This is my AU so I am their God and I say Butcher can still say cunt as many times he wants.
> 
> This is gonna sound horrible, but it really demoralises me when nobody comments on my fics so please, please if you liked it give me validation, if only to scream at me how I destroyed the characters.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome, welcome to the next instalment of this fic. More than a month later after I posted the first chapter. I'm sorry it took so long but between the whole destiel going canon like 5 times and real life getting crazier and me getting rejected by my dream school and the pandemic worsening in my country, well... let's just say my mental health and inspiration took a toll.
> 
> But all is good now and I'm back!
> 
> I will answer all your comments, I promise, and again, sorry for the delay.
> 
> If you catch any errors, please let me know. This is unbeta as we die like Lamplighter.
> 
> Hope you like it!

“Hughie and I, we’re getting married,” Butcher said as he gave Hughie’s hand a squish. 

Hughie just stood there, not understanding what was going on. It was like he had entered an alternate dimension and everything he knew to be true was a lie.

“Who… who is getting married?” he asked, to no one in particular, as he still didn’t understand what was going on.

“You and I, sweetheart,” Butcher said sweetly, or as sweetly as someone like Butcher could muster, before he patted Hughie on the chest. If Butcher was trying to be affectionate, he still had a long way to go.

“Right, right,” Hughie muttered, still trying to comprehend what was happening. “We’re…” 

“Getting married,” Butcher finished for him.

“Isn’t that your secretary?” Mrs Raynor asked as she stood up and crossed her arms. 

“Assistant,” Hughie corrected at the same time that Butcher said: “Executive Assistant.” 

“But titles are the least important thing. As we all know, it wouldn’t be the first time love blossoms between boss and employee, isn’t that right, Raynor?” Butcher asked as he smirked at Mrs Raynor who looked down right exasperated.

Mrs Mallory had to be as closed off as possible. None of her reactions were known to Hughie, but he could see some sort of warm emotion beneath her eyes. Hughie hadn’t actually had that much contact with her, being his boss’ boss, but he could see just from the way she composed herself why she was the head of the company.

“But yeah,” Butcher continued saying, not letting go of Hughie’s hand. “The truth is Hughie and I are just two blokes who shouldn’t have fallen in love but did so, even against all odds.”

“No,” Hughie said, reflexively, echoing Butcher’s statement if a little hollow. He was still in shock over the news of his apparent engagement. To Butcher. His boss. An asshole.

“All those late nights at the office, the book fairs all over the country… Something, something happened.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Hughie said numbly. Maybe it was all a nightmare and he would soon wake up, ready to face another day as Butcher’s assistant in his own personal hell.

“Quite romantic isn’t it?”

Mrs Mallory looked at the two of them with narrowed eyes trying to hold back something, as she covered her face with her hands in sign of exasperation and… something else Hughie couldn’t name. She sighed before standing up, walking towards them, slowly. On her part, Mrs Raynor looked incredulous and unamused but remained where she was, following Mrs Mallory’s movements with her eyes. 

“So, you have nothing to worry about.” Butcher said to Mrs Mallory and Mrs Raynor, who were looking at the older man with closed off expressions. “The marriage will be settled soon and this will be nothing but a distant and amusing memory between the four of us.”

“Fantastic,” Mrs Raynor said, drily. “Just make it legal, Butcher,” Mrs Mallory added as she showed her own wedding band, “and we can forget about this mess.”

Mrs Raynor looked like she wanted to say something else, but after a silent warning from Mrs Mallory, she only sighed and stood up to join them.

“Just go to the immigration office and get this whole process started,” she said. “Don’t fuck this up, Butcher, or John will be Chief Editor in your place.”

“Yes, sunshine, will do,” the older man said as he dragged Hughie outside of the office, “We’ll get right on that.”

“Take the rest of the day and the weekend off, Butcher and Hughie,” Mrs Mallory said before they were out of the office. “Celebrate your… engagement and we’ll see you back here on Monday.”

“Will… will do, Mrs Mallory,” Hughie stuttered as Butcher closed the door, grumbling to himself.

As they made their way downstairs in the elevator, Hughie was still having trouble wrapping his head around the last five minutes of his life. Everything had happened so suddenly he didn’t understand what was expected of him or if what had been said was actually happening.

“Don’t worry, lad,” Butcher said as the elevator went on his way towards their floor. “This will benefit the both of us.”

“How, Butcher, seriously how?”

“They were going to make Homelander Chief Editor.”

“And that’s why we have to get married?”

“Is that so bad?” Butcher asked, mockingly, “Or are you still waiting for your special someone?”

“That’s none of your business,” Hughie said defensively, blocking the memories that comment had triggered, as he didn’t want to remember the past. “Besides, that doesn’t matter right now. What you’re proposing is _illegal_.”

“Relax, kid, they’re looking for terrorists, mass murderers, not book editors.”

“I’m not gonna marry you, Butcher,” Hughie said as the doors of the elevator opened on their floor. He made his way towards the office, ignoring the looks and winks everyone was sending his way. Out of the corner of his eye he saw MM on his cubicle, and the man silently pointed towards his phone.

With a sigh, Hughie took his phone out of his pocket to see the group chat exploding with texts over his engagement. Apparently, the whole office was on the loop about his… status update. Just what he needed.

Before he could dwell on his misery, Butcher approached him with his bag and mentioned for Hughie to follow him. Not wanting to stay in the eye of the hurricane any longer, Hughie followed. As the doors of the elevator closed again, he could’ve sworn someone wolf whistled. 

“We are getting married,” Butcher said once the elevator made his way down. “Because if you don’t marry me, all those little dreams you have of reaching millions of people with the written word, are as good as dead.”

For a moment, Hughie said nothing contemplating what Butcher had said. However, he didn’t have to imagine anything, as the man himself started painting the picture of what would become of Hughie’s future.

“Homelander will fire you as soon as I’m out of the door. Guaranteed. Which means you’ll have to get another job, one where you’ll start the exact same shitty way as you did here. That means everything you’ve had to ‘endure’ because of me would’ve been for nothing, all those cancelled dates, those trips to the grocery store, the coffees. And with that, your hopes of being an editor are gone as well.”

Hughie could see Homelander firing him and enjoying it. And something in his face must have said something, because next thing he knew the doors of the elevator were being opened and Butcher pushed him outside.

“I promise you we’ll get a quick divorce and after that everyone can go on their merry way like a happy little lamb.”

Butcher turned to look at him. He looked way too pleased and satisfied with himself for Hughie’s tastes. He wished, not for the first time, for the ability to be able to punch Billy Butcher on his face.

“But as of now,” Butcher continued, completely ignorant as to Hughie’s internal struggle, “your wagon is stitched to mine.”

…

They were standing outside the U.S Citizenship and Immigration Services building, Hughie about to collapse from the stress and the nerves and Butcher just wanting to be done with the whole situation. Putting on his best expression, Butcher grabbed Hughie's hand and went inside. 

The place was crowded, with many people waiting in line to be attended. Not one to sit and wait for life to handle him things, Butcher left Hughie on the line while he went upfront to talk to the person on the counter. Just as the person was dismissed and the immigration clerk called “next”, Butcher grabbed his chance and cut the line, standing in front of the woman on the counter.

“I need you to file this fiancee VISA for me, please,” he said as he handed her a file and Hughie yelled ‘Butcher, the line!’ and went running towards him. Butcher could see from the corner of his eye at Hughie apologising to the man that was behind Butcher, whose turn Butcher had stolen, and he felt himself become amused at the younger man’s actions. Apologising on behalf of Butcher was not in his job description, yet the lad did it anyway.

“Mr. Butcher?” the woman in front of him asked, taking Butcher out of his thoughts.

“Yes?”

“Come with me,” she said before turning around and walking inside the office. 

After exchanging a look with Hughie, Butcher followed. A weird feeling was settling in his stomach, and for the first time he doubted that the plan could actually work. But nowhere in hell would he tell Hughie that.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Hughie voiced as they were led to an office with the name ‘Alastair Adana’. Inside, a man was waiting for them and the clerk delivered him the file that Butcher had given her a few minutes prior. 

“Hello, please sit down,” the man said as he pointed at the chairs, with a polite smile. It was obvious he was trying to make them feel at ease, but Butcher could smell how fake the smile was and how actually the man was studying their every moment. 

“I’m Alastair Adana,” he introduced himself. “You must be…” he glanced at the file quickly before returning to look at them. “William Butcher and Hugh Campbell, right?”

“Hughie,” Hughie and Butcher corrected in unison, making them look at each other in surprise. Seeing Hughie actually surprised, Butcher smiled and chuckled softly before returning to look at Mr Adana, who was looking at them with a calculating gaze.

“Hughie,” Adana said at last, writing something down in a notepad next to him. “Well, sorry for all the walk and the trouble, but you see, I need to ask you both a question before we start this process: are you both committing fraud to avoid his deportation to the United Kingdom and he can keep his job as Chief Editor at Vought Editorial?” 

Butcher could see Hughie just about freezing right next to him, so he tried to be as nonchalantly as plausible, but taking all the attention to him. As long as Adana was looking at him, Hughie wouldn’t lose it completely.

“No, we’re not,” he said with confidence and without flinching, looking right at Adana in the eye. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Well, earlier this afternoon we received a call from a man named…” Adana began saying as he looked through his notes, looking for something.

“John Homelander?” Butcher said through gritted teeth as Hughie tensed even more on the chair next to him.

“Yes, as a matter of fact it was him,” Adana said as he returned his eyes to Butcher, who was now leaning towards the desk.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Butcher said, “but I fired Homelander this morning and he must have called in a bitter attempt to screw with me and for that I apologise. Getting in the way with government issues must not be treated lightly, I believe that and I think this should all be followed correctly but you must be incredibly busy, and we don’t want to get in the way even more than we have. Just tell us what we have to do and we’ll be on our way.”

“It won’t be quite that easy Mr Butcher,” Adana said with an amused but cold smile, “You see, when things like this are brought to our attention, we must follow through with them. The first step is a scheduled interview with the two. I’ll put both of you in separate rooms and ask you every little question that real couples should be able to answer without any trouble. Step two, well that’s my favourite part, because I get to dig deeper into your lives. I pull phone records, I talk to your neighbours, your friends, interview your coworkers. If all of that matches with what you told me in your respective interviews, we can move forward, but if any detail, as tiny as it seems, disagrees, well… Let just say you’ll be looking at indefinite deportation for Mr Butcher and a stay of 5 years in federal prison as well as a fine of over $250,000 for Mr Campbell.”

Butcher could feel Hughie tensing up, his knuckles becoming white due to the strength with which he was clenching his fists. As Adana continued speaking, a man outside of the room was being dragged by the police and Butcher internally groaned as he could feel the panic emanating from Hughie. And if Butcher could sense it, it was obvious Adana was noticing as well. 

“So, Mr Campbell,” Adana continued after a pause, “is there something you want to tell me?”

Butcher had faith in Hughie, he did, especially after the threats he had given in the elevator. But seeing the young man about to faint or bolt from the office, Butcher began having doubts of his assistant. Hughie was loyal, yes, but he was also risking federal prison and a huge debt. Butcher needed Hughie, but he could also see why Hughie would give him up. He wasn’t even a great boss to begin with.

“No, sir,” Hughie said with a surprisingly clear voice, pulling Butcher out of his thoughts. “The honest truth is that I’m… in love with… Billy and I want to marry him.” He turned to look at Butcher and smiled softly at the man, making Butcher’s chest feel warm. “We’re just two people who shouldn’t have fallen in love but did so, even against all odds.”

Adana sighed as he leaned backwards into his chair, looking done with the whole thing. Butcher was smiling smugly, thinking they were over but Hughie kept talking. 

“We couldn’t tell anyone at work, with my big promotion coming up.”

“Promotion?” Adana asked as Butcher tried to hide his surprise and anger at Hughie’s words. Promotion? What the fuck was the kid talking about?

“Yes, we both felt that it would’ve been completely inappropriate if I were to be promoted to editor while we were dating.”

“Right,” Butcher said through a smile that he knew everyone could tell it was forced.

“So… have you two told any of your parents about your… secret relationship?” Adana asked as he grabbed his notepad and began writing.

“My parents are dead, as well as my younger brother Lenny,” Butcher said with finality, not wanting to disclose anything further. However, it seemed it had irked Adana as he turned to Hughie with an annoyed expression on his face.

“Are your parents dead too?”

“No,” Hughie said with a forced smile, “they’re very much alive. And we’re gonna tell them this weekend, at my Grandpa’s 90th birthday. The whole family will be there.”

“And where will this whole event take place?”

“At Hughie’s parents house, in New Scotland,” Butcher said praying the memory he had of Hughie mentioning something about Scottish heritage wasn’t a lie.

“Yes, that’s right. My family is from there,” Hughie said with a soft smile as he looked at Butcher in a weird way, like he was surprised Butcher paid attention to him. Of course Butcher paid attention to him, he was practically with the lad 24/7, some things were bound to stick.

“You’re going to New Scotland this weekend?”

“Yes,” both Butcher and Hughie said in unison, holding hands somewhat awkwardly to try and show they were a united fort. They failed miserably if Adana’s mirthless chuckle was any indication.

“I see how this is gonna go,” he said tiredly, “but fine. I will see both of you on Monday at 11am here for your individual interviews. Can’t wait to see how this one plays out.”

“Thank you,” Hughie said as he grabbed the envelope with the time and date of their interview and practically bolted from the office, not even waiting for Butcher. Butcher tried to hide his exasperation but was stopped by Adana at the door.

“He doesn’t deserve to go to jail,” he said looking at Butcher in the eye without flinching. “It’d be easier if you just confessed.”

“There’s nothing to confess.” is all he said before opening the door and exiting the office, without looking back. However, Adana’s words were in his head and his stomach twisted on itself. This might not have been as great of an idea as he had originally thought.

…

Hughie needed to breathe. He knew that, the lady in the corner knew that, as well as the homeless man and the hot dog vendor. But he just couldn’t. He had just lied to a federal agent about loving Butcher and all he wanted to do was to run away as far as he could, change his name and never to be heard of again.

“You did great in there, lad,” Butcher said as he clapped him in the shoulder and grinned. “Brilliant idea of becoming an editor and the weekend at New Scotland. You have good ideas kid. We should head to my apartment and start working on the briefs about ourselves as well as trying to do some work, no matter what Mallory or Raynor say.”

“I’m sorry,” Hughie said before Butcher could continue, “were you not in the same room that I was?”

“Of course I was, kid, which is why I think you had great ideas.”

“No, no, no, Butcher, no, I was serious.” Hughie said, trying very hard not to scream, “I’m looking at 5 years in federal prison as well as a fine of $250,000. That changes things, big time.”

“I can’t promote you to editor! What the fuck is wrong with you? That’s impossible.”

“And we ARE going to my Grandpa’s birthday in New Scotland.” Hughie said, standing his ground with Butcher for the first time in their time knowing each other. Who knew that fear of federal prison could be so good at empowering someone over their asshole of a boss. “Or else I quit and you’re on your own, Butcher.”

“Not happening Hughie.”

“Then, goodbye, Butcher,” Hughie said as he turned around and began walking away. “It’s been a real slice of Heaven working with you.”

“FINE” Butcher screamed, making Hughie turn, “Fine Hughie, you win. If you do the interview and marry me, I will make you editor and we’ll go to your Grandpa’s birthday. happy?”

“Not in two years, Butcher, right away.”

“Yes, yes, right away.”

“And you’ll publish my manuscript.”

Butcher was about to argue, but Hughie just stared at him, willing all his anger into his eyes. Butcher seemed to get the message, as he agreed.

“10,000 copies, first…”

“20,000 copies, first run,” Hughie interrupted Butcher, voice confident and demanding. If he was risking a lot, he would also win a lot. “We tell MY family about our engagement whenever I want, however I want, okay?”

“Of course,” Butcher said diligently. “Whatever you want.”

“Anything? Well… Ask me nicely to marry you.”

“What?” Butcher asked, looking puzzled. “What does that even mean? You want a pretty please?”

“No, Butcher, get down on one knee and ask me to marry you. Right here, right now.”

Butcher turned to look around, and with a sigh and probably swallowing a lot of curse words, he said “fine.” He bent down on his knee and grabbed Hughie’s hands. If looks could kill, Hughie would be dead, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t see any enjoyment in Butcher down on his knee looking uncomfortable and ready to murder someone, most likely Hughie himself.

“Marry me.”

“C’mon Butcher, you can do better than that. Is our engagement. Say it like you mean it.” If Hughie had a huge smile on his face, looking like he was enjoying Butcher’s suffering, well, that was the truth.

“Hughie,”

“Yes, Butcher,”

“My… sweet, darling Hughie.”

“I’m listening."

“Will you do me the favour of marrying me?”

“Yes, I’ll marry you, even if I don’t appreciate the sarcasm.”

“Great now…” Butcher began saying as he tried to stand up, but Hughie interrupted him once more.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, 8am at your place.”

And with that he turned around, leaving Butcher on his own, fumbling with his suit. As he walked away, he realised… Hughie Campbell was finally engaged.

Who would’ve thought?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if you've seen the movie recently, but I made a few changes in the interview. Mostly that in here Butcher knows a little more about Hughie's personal life than Margaret did with Andrew. Not a lot, as Butcher will still be surprised, but enough that something could be seen in the interview they had as genuine affection.
> 
> Also, I grabbed Alastair Adana as the immigration agent because I couldn't think of anyone else.
> 
> Also, I changed Sitka Alaska for a town called New Scotland, trying to honor Hughie' being Scottish in the comics. I don't know the town in real life but in this AU it will be like Sitka.
> 
> I'll try to update sooner, as I'm better now, but thanks for your patience and for all your comments. You keep me wanting to write.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Early Early Valentine's Day!!!
> 
> I'm so so sorry for the long wait but I promise I'm trying to not give up on this fic. Your comments and kudos literally make my day and I am writing again so all is as good as it can be I guess.
> 
> I have set myself an scheduled, to organise myself better with my fics, so hopefully, HOPEFULLY, i will be updating weekly, every Tuesday or so. Fingers cross I don't fail you again.
> 
> I hope you're all well and safe and happy and I'm sending you lots of love and affection.

Butcher was barely waking up when someone knocked on his door, startling him. It was barely 7:30am so it couldn’t be Hughie. But then again, who else could be knocking at his door at such an unholy hour just because? 

Angry and frustrated, Butcher stood up, dragging himself out of bed to answer the door. And lo and behold, on the other side of it was Hughie, looking unimpressed with a raised eyebrow and his arms crossed. It was his “I don’t know why I bother” face.

“I know I said casual, but boxers and a shirt isn’t how I want my parents to meet my future spouse,” Hughie said with a sardonic smile and mocking tone.

“You said 8am,” were the first words that came out of Butcher’s mouth in lieu of greeting. “It’s not 8am.” He stepped away from the door, turning his back on Hughie. If he had to deal with the younger man from such an early hour, he needed coffee, strong.

“I know you,” Hughie said with a shrug as he entered the apartment and closed the door. “We’re going to New Scotland and the weather there is colder than it is here.”

“I know how to pack for colder weather,” Butcher growled at his coffee pot, angry at Hughie’s condescending tone.

“You know how to dress for job events, not for casual stuff,” Hughie said, crossing his arms as he leaned against the kitchen counter. “We need to make sure my family believes we’ve been dating for a while, otherwise this isn’t gonna work.”

“Say what you fucking mean, Hughie, it’s too early for me to decipher all your bullshit subtext.”

“In all the years that I’ve known you, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in truly casual wear, even when we were at book fairs.”

“I have casual wear,” he said after taking a sip of his coffee, grounding him in the moment, “I just don’t like to walk around like a fucking peacock when wearing it.”

Hughie still looked unimpressed, which reflected just how much time they truly spent together if he couldn’t make the other man wince with his words anymore. Sighing, he realised riling the other man up wouldn’t do them any good.

“What do you propose then, lad?” 

“I bought some clothes you’re taking on the trip,” Hughie said as he lifted his hand, showing a bag Butcher had failed to see, “with your credit card, of course.”

“Of course,” Butcher muttered, staring at his mug. 

“And since I know you haven’t packed, I’m here to help you out,  _ honey _ .” 

Butcher had been insulted a lot throughout his life, but no one had put as much venom in a word as Hughie had in the word honey. However, he should revisit at a later moment his response to that particular tone.

“Of course,  _ sugar plum _ ,” he said, standing up and working towards the bedroom. If Hughie wanted to play dirty, two could play that game.

…

If Hughie thought Butcher was insufferable on a normal day, on a “weekend” he was downright a nightmare to be with. The man bitched more than he had ever bitched in the years they had worked together. Which was saying something.

Two hours after he had entered Butcher’s apartment, the man was ready to go. Almost. Because of course he couldn’t leave his work behind, even if his own freaking boss had given him the weekend. Because Butcher was many things, but an easy, simple man wasn’t one of them.

“I need both my laptop and my cellphone, Hughie, I can’t just slack off like a cunt. I’m no Homelander.”

“Butcher, for the thousandth time, we’re going to spend time with my family. You can’t be on your phone or on your laptop, that’s just fucking rude.”

“Well, excuse me, princess, for caring about my fucking job. I’m good at it for a reason.”

“If you’re not gonna pretend you at least care a little about my family, you can say goodbye to this stupid deal, Butcher. You can be mean to me, I don’t give a shit, but my Grandpa is 90 years old and he deserves your fucking respect. So, you’ll be nice to my family, engage with them or I walk out on this deal faster than Homelander will take your office.”

During his rant, Butcher had looked up from his phone, staring at Hughie with something like pride, and something else, in his eyes. Well, at least Hughie thought it was pride, because when Butcher was related, Hughie highly doubted that man could feel any positive emotions.

“Can I at least take my phone?” Butcher asked after a pregnant pause, “Noir might call and I need to be available in case he does.”

“Fine,” Hughie said, rolling his eyes. “Whatever gets us out of the door faster.”

“We’re set,” Butcher said as he closed his suitcase. “I just need some breakfast and a…”

“We’ll eat on the road,” Hughie interrupted as he started walking towards the car, not caring if Butcher was actually following or not.

He could hear Butcher muttering under his breath, but he didn’t care. For the first time in their relationship Hughie had power over Butcher, the man was literally on his hands, and it was an intoxicating feeling to have. He would relish on it for as long as he could. And best of all? He would become an editor by the end of the weekend. Nothing could be better than that.

As they approached Butcher’s car, an old Cadillac, Butcher went towards the driver’s seat, much to Hughie’s delight. He didn’t mind driving, but he was better as a copilot than the actual driver. Too many things could go wrong with one mistake done. 

“I don’t know where to go,” Butcher said as his hands touched the steering wheel, fingers flexing as if getting used to doing an activity they had long forgotten. 

“I do, and I’ll give you the directions, just start the car, Butcher.” Hughie said, not bothering to look up from his phone. He hadn’t decided to call his father to let him know he would be bringing guests, just a quick message to update him on his trip. If someone would be supportive of a relationship, it would be Hugh Campbell Senior, but Hughie feared for his mother’s reaction. 

Before he could actually dwell on that, Butcher started the car, pulling him out of his thoughts, for which Hughie was thankful. Staring at the road ahead of them, Hughie decided to tackle the one thing that actually worried him about the whole deal.

“So, these are the questions the CIS is gonna ask us. We need to go over them if we want to make them believe us.”

…

Butcher was happy for the excuse of driving, allowing him to stare at the road ahead of him instead of at the man sitting next to him. He knew they needed to exchange personal details they hadn’t shared with anyone before to make them look believable as a couple, but the idea of bearing himself to someone other than Becca made him feel nauseous and wrong.

Maybe they wouldn’t go into a lot of detail, in order to go through all of the questions through the drive, but Butcher knew better. He knew Hughie would be asking every little detail in order to avoid crushing debt and federal prison, even if it meant talking about bathroom habits and STDs. He didn’t regret his choice, Hughie wasn’t the worst person to be married to, but he dreaded the next couple of hours nonetheless.

“So, these are the questions the CIS is gonna ask us. We need to go over them if we want to make them believe us,” Hughie said as he read from the stash of papers the Immigration Office had sent them over the previous afternoon. “The good thing is I already know everything about you. Bad news is you have three days to learn all this about me, so… we might as well do it now.”

Butcher rolled his eyes, staring at the road to avoid giving Hughie a punch in the face. He would try to be nice about it though, with Hughie’s pretty face and everything.

“You know all the answers in that thing about me?” Butcher asked, barely suppressing his disbelief. “What am I allergic to?”

“Kiwis,” Hughie said without a pause, “and the full spectrum of human emotions.”

“Hilarious, lad,” Butcher said with a bite. “You’re allergic to pine nuts and the very idea of standing up to any authority you’ve ever met.”

“I stood up to you and I'm getting something out of this mess, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, because you have leverage over me, lad, not because you had the balls to go for it before.”

“You wouldn’t have let me go,” Hughie said, barely managing not to sound like pouting, “you like bossing me and bitching at me way too much.”

Before Butcher could respond to that, Hughie changed subjects, going over the list as if it was just a grocery store list and not the one that would decide their future and their lives. 

“I’m sure you have a tattoo, but I’m not sure where.”

“How are you so sure about that?”

“Because two years ago, your dermatologist called and asked about your appointment with a Q Switch Laser, which is used for tattoo removals. However, you cancelled your appointment on that same call.”

“Is in my left shoulder blade, the name Rebecca in hebrew.”

Butcher surprises himself by saying that, not only because he had never said anything to anyone about that, but because he knows that Hughie knows that that sentence was the most he has said about Becca in years. Silence fell upon the car, but it wasn’t an unpleasant one, which was a first for him.

“I don’t have any,” Hughie said after a while, “in case CIS asks about it.”

Butcher said nothing, only nodded, staring right ahead. Three hours suddenly looked like too little and too much for the both of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick notes: 
> 
> I don't know Becca's religion in The Boys, and I tried to search for it, but because I'm their god in this fanfic, I made her jewish. I'm not jewish so I won't be going into it a lot, but if I offended anyone I'm truly sorry as it is not my intention. (If I did, please, please, let me know). Also, Butcher is an atheist and he did the tattoo to honour and remember Becca. Religion won't be a prominent feature on this fic, but if anyone feels offended or upset, please let me know so I can change it. Insulting anyone is the last thing on my mind. Truly.
> 
> Also, I made Butcher allergic to kiwis, cause Karl is a kiwi and my sense of humour is stupid.
> 
> Also, also, In the past, I know I said Hughie was visiting for his GRANDMA's 90s birthday, but because I'm bullying my ADHD brain into writing, I need to keep him engaged, so Hughie has now a Grandpa whose identity might make you laugh or possibly hate me a lot.
> 
> Hope you liked it!


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I... updating on a timely fashion? Am I keeping my promises for the first time in my life?  
> Looks like it, huh? Let's see how long this lasts... jksjksjsjs 
> 
> I meant to say "I will update every Tuesday or so," but blame my stupid brain that STILL mixes Thursday with Tuesday. 
> 
> Words are hard people.

They stopped for breakfast after an hour and a half of driving. His parents weren’t expecting them until after 2pm so they had time. More than enough to practise being a couple in front of others, at least. And if they were to convince his parents, especially his mother, they needed to look comfortable around each other.

The silence in the car wasn’t suffocating, not by any chance, but ever since the tattoo question it seemed like neither of them knew how to keep going. He was glad Butcher had confided in him about the tattoo, and treasured the moment for what it was, a valued statement that Butcher was in it for real. Sure, he had something to gain out of it, but Hughie could see he was trying. And at the end of the day, that was what mattered the most.

They sat at the far end corner of the dinner. Hughie knew how much Butcher hated attention, preferring peace and quiet, and if he knew his mother that would not be found during the weekend after the announcement of their engagement. Whether she agreed or not it didn’t matter, she would have the whole town invested in their wedding. He loved his mother, he really did, but sometimes he wished she was a little more down to Earth. But maybe that’s why she worked so well with his father, as he was the creature of the Earth while she was one of the clouds. Without him she would float away, but without her he would drop to the ground. 

He wanted something like that, with every fibre of his being. Maybe Butcher had known that with Becca, but how do you approach such a thing? He did need to know about her, if only to fool Adana, but where was the line between what you tell your fiancé and what you don’t?

Fiancé... Hughie had been many things throughout his life, but fiancé had never been one of them, not even in his wildest imaginations. If his relationship with Robin hadn’t worked out, then what hope did he actually have to find the one in the scary big world that was New York?

For better or for worse that decision was taken from him, and as he looked at Butcher contemplating the menu, maybe it had been for the better. Hughie wasn’t known for a man to take action over his own life anyway. And maybe he never would.

“You’re awfully quiet there, lad,” Butcher said, still looking at the menu, “should I be worried?”

“I’m just… thinking,” Hughie answered with a shrug, and even if he knew Butcher wasn’t really fishing for an explanation, he felt he owed the older man one anyway. “My mom is not… easy to deal with.”

“She can’t be worse than my cunt of a father,” Butcher replied as he placed the menu on the table, looking Hughie directly in the eye. He could see Butcher was actually serious about it, and not for the first time wondered what had transpired between the two men. Butcher kept his cards close to his chest, but after years of working together, Hughie could fairly say he did know the man. And his father was even more of a sore subject to him than Becca.

“She loves me, and I love her,” Hughie said after a sigh, “is just that I know I’ve disappointed her by working for you.”

“She doesn’t even know me!”

“She is sure my life could’ve gone in a completely different direction if I had just stayed home instead of packing my bags and moving to New York.”

“You work for one of the most prestigious editorials in the world.”

“...”

“Okay, I may not be the greatest boss lad, but I don’t exploit you.”

Luckily for Hughie, he didn’t get to answer as the waitress chose that exact moment to greet them and ask for their order. Butcher ordered the greasiest breakfast Hughie had ever heard of, while he just went with good old eggs and bacon. As the waitress left their table, Hughie turned to look at Butcher with a raised eyebrow.

“What?” Butcher asked when he caught sight of Hughie, rolling his eyes. “The fact that I eat fancy shit in the city doesn’t mean I don’t know how to let myself go.”

“There’s a line between letting yourself go and going straight to clog your arteries.”

“Worried about me?” the older man asked, in what Hughie presumed was a sweetly manner, but overly sarcastic. He even had a shit eating grin, the asshole.

“I hope you die in a ditch ,” Hughie said, throwing daggers at Butcher with his eyes, making the other man laugh in return. Hughie tried to fight the smile that threatened to split his face, but Butcher laughing wholeheartedly was something Hughie didn’t see often.

It was a nice sight.

...

Butcher would never admit it out loud, but the lad was great company and had a dry but incredibly witty sense of humour. While the two of them enjoyed breakfast, they managed to talk about something other than each other and their upcoming interview. They laughed reminiscing over some of the authors Vought had had to represent over the years, like a particular author named Shawn who loved to burn his characters and was later found out to be a pyromaniac. 

Butcher paid for breakfast, throwing Hughie a glare as the young man didn’t even pretend to fight for the bill. Whatever, it really didn’t bother him as out of the two of them, Butcher was the one who made actual good money. He had seen Hughie’s pay checks, as he was the one who signed them. He could take care of bills every so often. And to prove to Hughie that he wasn't a major arsehole, he left a more than generous tip.

They left the dinner not long after that, with Hughie smiling softly at the ground as they made their way to the car. The Sun shone especially bright on Hughie’s curls, making them look like dull gold. Butcher’s chest felt heavy at the sight, so he turned around to look at the car, preparing mentally for the upcoming battle.

He remembered when he had met Becca’s family, the disdain in her father’s eyes, mistrust in her mother and sister’s wary look. He had tried to present himself less threatening than usual. He knew exactly what he looked like and how he presented himself to the world, but never had he ever tried as hard to be liked as that afternoon at Becca’s home. Needless to say, it hadn’t gone that well. 

Maybe Hughie’s family was different, and he actually had some hope of being liked just the way he was. Or whatever.

“So, besides dear old mum, how’s the rest of the Campbell clan?”

“Insane,” Hughie said, deadpan, startling a laugh out of Butcher. He had made Butcher laugh more in one morning than he had in the past few years. Which spoke more of him as a person than of Hughie’s sense of humour, but best not dwell on that.

“I’m serious,” the lad continued, with a big smile on his face, “my dad is just this little man who worships the grown my mom walks and absolutely adores her.”

“That doesn’t sound insane,” Butcher said with a pang in his chest, remembering Becca.

“That doesn’t make him insane, he’s just a man that’s been in love with my mother since they met in college and has never looked at anyone else,” Hughie said wistfully as he looked out of the window. “I don’t think a day has gone by where my dad hasn’t been in love with my mom.”

“Then why is he insane?”

“Because he doesn’t know how to be anything else. His entire life revolves around mom, and is insane just how… dedicated to each other they are.”

“Your mom…”

“Loves him just the same, if not more.” Hughie said with a small, sad smile. “She could’ve gone anywhere in the world she wanted after college, yet she chose to follow my dad to this little town in the middle of nowhere so he could work on the family business, and hasn’t looked back since.”

Butcher didn’t know what to say, how to respond to such a thing. Because he had experienced that kind of love, and had burned him in the worst possible way. But hearing Hughie, it seemed like that wasn’t always the case.

“And Pops is no better,” Hughie said after a chuckle. “He turned his back on his entire family, future and life the minute he saw Grandpa. He never regretted his choice of being with him, not even when life was tough on them, with the war and everything. They chose each other through it all, and managed to be with each other even with all odds against them.”

Butcher was no writer, he loved words and how they could turn something as simple as the word love into complicated poetry, yearning and learning. He never had the patience to put his thoughts into written word, but hearing Hughie talk about his family, well, seemed like the lad had even more hidden talents than Butcher had originally thought.

“And then there’s dear uncle Johnny,” Hughie continued with a fond roll of his eyes. “He… is the craziest of them all.” But made no further comment on that, choosing to just look through the window, a small smile on his lips.

If Hughie could open up without prompting, Butcher could do the same. It was only fair.

“My parents might be dead” he said after a pause, “or they might not. Haven’t heard from them in a really long time, even before Becca. Mum… she loved me at the best of her ability, but at the end of the day she would choose dad over all. Even after all the shit he did to her and us.” 

He looked at the road, not daring to turn and see Hughie looking at him. He felt his gaze on him, and he didn’t need to look to know that there was no pity in Hughie’s eyes. Hughie didn’t do pity. 

“Lenny was the best of us, and the world didn’t deserve him,” he said after a long intake of breath. “He… He just loved unconditionally, you know? In a way I used to envy until I saw how it destroyed him.”

“Butcher…”

“You remind me of him, sometimes,” he said with a dry chuckle, no actual mirth in it. “But at the same time you don’t. He would’ve loved you, that’s for sure.”

Hughie didn’t say anything, and Butcher appreciated the lad more than before. He knew that if someone in the world beside Becca were to understand him, it would be Hughie. And Hughie didn’t do pity.

“We’re here,” Hughie said, breaking the spell they had found themselves in after Butcher passed the “Welcome to New Scotland” sign in the car. “Ready to face the music?”

And as Butcher looked at the lad, with his eyes wide open, a speak of fear inside of them, Butcher knew he would do whatever it took to make the weekend as smooth as possible for Hughie. 

It’s the least he could do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know? This exchange in the movie took like 5 minutes, but leave it to me to create TWO ENTIRE CHAPTERS out of it. Maybe I do hate myself.
> 
> Also, if any of you know who Pops and Uncle Johnny are, please don't hate me but also leave me your theories if you want in the comments. 
> 
> Also, also, I love every single comment you guys leave. You make me want to keep writing so thank you, thank you, thank you for them.


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In today's instalment we finally arrive at Hughie's childhood home and boy did I had trouble with that. 
> 
> In the movie, Andrew's dad is kind of an asshole, but in this house we want good parent figures so neither of Hughie's parents will be like that. The only asshole here is Butcher, and even then kinda not?
> 
> Also, thank you, THANK YOU SO MUCH, for the 100 kudos. You guys make my day with your comments and kudos.

Hughie was nervous, that was the honest to God truth. As they grew closer and closer to his house, he realised he needed to warn Butcher about his family. 

From the corner of his eye, he could see Butcher was fighting his instincts to snap at him, which Hughie appreciated. He couldn’t handle Butcher being an asshole, right now. Well, no more of an asshole than usual, that is. 

“Just fucking say it, Hughie,” Butcher said softly, still looking at the road.

“My family is rich,” Hughie said with a wince, “like… rich rich.”

“Rich rich?” Butcher asked, raising an eyebrow as he turned his head slightly to look at Hughie. His eyes shone under the sunlight that filtered through the windshield, making them look like pools of honey and grass where one could sink in.

Instead of answering his question, Hughie just sighed and pointed outside the window, where the local market showcased the name “Campbell’s Goods” for everyone to see. Butcher’s eyebrow was rapidly accompanied by the other, showcasing his surprise. 

Next to the market was a small video store, which also portrayed Campbell's name. And next to it was a small pet store, also with the Campbell name. In fact, the whole street was showcasing his last name one way or another. And Butcher was still looking at it.

Butcher kept on driving, not saying a word, but his shoulders were tense and his hands were gripping the steering wheel tight. Hughie didn’t know what to say, so he just kept on looking at the older man as they made their way through the town. 

They arrived at the house not long after that, a big old house at the far end of the town, near the river. It was modeled after those Gregorian style manors, with paved entries surrounded by colonnaded porticos and guest houses at the sides of the house. And, right there on the front door, his Grandpa and dad were waiting for him, waving their arms excitedly at the sight of Hughie in the passenger seat. 

As Hughie got out of the car, his father came down from the steps leading to the house, his arms wide open and a big smile on his face. Next to him, Pops was smiling broadly, and Hughie felt happy. It had really been a long time since he had seen his family. 

He ran towards his dad, smiling away. His dad hugged him tight, and Hughie hugged him tighter in response. He had missed his dad, so much.

“Oh, Hughie,” his dad said, still hugging him. “It's so good to see you!”

“You’re suffocating him, Hugh,” Pops said, having come down to be next to his son and grandson. “Come here,” he added as Hughie let go of his dad and turn to look at his grandpa.

“Hey Pops,” Hughie said as he hugged the old man. Even at his 90 years old, Pops had great strength, and held onto Hughie tight. Hughie held back the tears that he knew were threatening to come out. It was good to see them.

“Where’s mom?” he asked once hugs had been given. He looked between his father and grandfather and they rolled their eyes, amused and fond of the woman. 

“You know her, Hughie,” his dad said with a smile that he only had whenever he thought about his wife, “always with new ideas and projects in mind.”

Even though his mom had gone to New Scotland following his dad, in the end it turned out that she had a better idea on what to do with the family business and how to make it grow. Hugh, knowing his wife, had gladly stepped aside, fully embracing being a stay-at-home dad, while her wife shone brightly with her talents for business. Pops and Grandpa had welcomed her ideas and visions without questions, and after Grandpa had passed away and Pops stepped out as CEO, his mom took on the mantle, keeping the business alive and thriving. 

“She’ll be back soon,” Pops added with a smile, “she knows you were coming home. But, who’s that lass over there, Hughie?” Pops asked, pointing at Butcher.

Hughie took a deep breath. Like a band aid, quickly and painless. He motioned for Butcher to join them, and the man walked stiff and unsure. Hughie would be gapping or laughing at the sight of Butcher looking anything but calm and collected, in total control of a situation, if he wasn’t himself a ball of anxiety.

His dad and pops were looking at him with a thousand questions in their eyes, but remained silent and waited for Hughie to do the introductions. Hughie was thankful for that small mercy and his mom not being around.

“Pops, Dad, this is William Butcher, my… boyfriend.” He would get to the fiancé part, eventually, during the weekend, probably. Definitely after Pops birthday party. 

Recognition flashed on their eyes at the mention of Butcher’s name, no doubt remembering all those long hours at the office and missed parties because of the man. Maybe they were thinking of all the phone calls where he had complained about Butcher, and Hughie dreaded his family’s response. 

Hugh Campbell was a simple man of simple tastes. He always wore cardigans and loose dressings shirts. He was small, at least compared with Hughie or Butcher, and was always trying to play peacemaker at the house whenever Hughie and his mom fought. But that didn’t make him weak or bland, because when his family was concerned, his dad became one of the most fierce and protective men Hughie had ever met. 

Pops, on his part, was calm and meditative, always saying just the exact words he needed to get his point across. Nothing more and nothing less. He wasn’t one for judgment and resentment, having long ago decided that life was too short to spend it hating the past. But he was also a war veteran, with the spirit of a soldier.

Maggie Campbell, on her part, was a woman with a strong set of beliefs and ideals. And her only son being an assistant for more than two years, didn't sit right with her. She had the idea that Hughie was meant for more, following her footsteps on the family business. 

“Hugh Campbell,” his dad said, extending a hand for Butcher to shake once the man had joined them. He knew his dad would’ve gone for a hug, but with Butcher being so stiff, a handshake would have to do. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too, sir,” Butcher replied, looking uncomfortable as he shook his dad’s hand. “Hughie talks great about you.”

His dad smiled at Butcher, warm, open and inviting, and Hughie could breathe a little easier. One down, three more to go. 

“This is my Pops, Cas Campbell,” Hughie introduced, once his dad had ended the handshake. His Pops didn’t offer a hand, he merely nodded in welcome, and Butcher’s shoulders became looser as he nodded back. Men of few words, both of them.

“I’m sorry for any inconvenience,” Butcher said politely. “I know you weren’t expecting an extra guest.”

“Oh, nonsense!” His dad exclaimed, trying to ease Butcher’s worries. “We have plenty of room in the house.”

“Still,” Pops said, looking directly at Hughie. “A little notice would’ve been welcomed.”

“That’s my fault, sir,” Butcher said, calling his Pops attention away from Hughie. “I decided only yesterday to join you. I should’ve given Hughie and the lot of you more notice, and for that, I apologize.”

Hughie was feeling whiplash. Sure, he had seen Butcher charm executives and authors alike, but to see a William Butcher that was polite and respectful of his family was making Hughie feel things he didn’t know how to name. The fact that he had taken the blame for not saying anything about him being there was just an added bonus.

Pops smiled, and Hughie felt lighter. Two more to go.

“Let’s get you two settled before Maggie arrives,” his dad said, and Hughie smiled. Maybe the weekend wouldn’t be so bad.

…

Butcher had been wrong. Meeting Hughie’s parents was worse than meeting Becca’s, by a long shot. They couldn’t even compare themselves. Mainly, because Hughie’s dad was being nice to him. 

Butcher was used to mistrust, judgement, being underestimated or dismissed. But no one had ever looked at him without a second intention. There was always something underneath the surface that made Butcher comfortable. If you know the other person wants something out from you, you can work with that. But when they want nothing but to get to know you, who you are as a person? What the fuck was he supposed to do with that?

He almost wanted them to be upset at the obvious fact that Hughie hadn’t said a fucking bloody thing about his arrival, but the two men just took it in stride and smiled at them, like it was no inconvenience whatsoever. They didn’t even consider the idea of letting him stay at a hotel. 

Butcher feared that if he made the suggestion, Hugh would take it as a personal offense. And, for some reason, he really wanted Hughie’s dad to like him. As they led him through the mansion, because it was a mansion that Hughie had failed to tell him about, Butcher felt like it was the right place to be. He couldn’t explain it or describe it, but where in any other occasion with different people the sight of a house like this could overwhelm him, the Campbell house was welcoming, like open arms after a long journey.

Butcher was mesmerised, especially because Hughie acted nothing like an entitled brat that came from money. He worked hard and took everything Butcher threw at him, never complaining or slacking. Whenever he faced a problem, Hughie just soldiered on, without backing down, not afraid to get his hands dirty if the situation required him too. He was the best assistant Butcher had ever had, which is why he hadn’t wanted to promote him before. 

The lad had everything to be a great editor, even greater than Butcher himself, but he felt weirdly overprotective of him, knowing how aggressive the editorial world could be and corrupt the young idealistic energy Hughie had. But maybe Butcher had underestimated Hughie’s tolerance for hypocrisy and the business world. 

They were in the living room, a big space with books covering every wall and a comfortable couch on the left wall with a small table in the middle, when Butcher saw her. Hughie’s mom. The woman was tall and slender, with dark brown hair falling to her shoulder. But it was her aura that told Butcher that this woman was not someone you mess with. And her smile was like a shark, ready to attack Butcher at the first sight of blood.

Butcher could tell the minute Hughie noticed her, as his eyes widened at the sight of his mom. He tensed up, and Butcher held his hand in comfort. Hughie turned to look at him, offering a small smile, and Butcher’s heart twisted inside. 

“Hi, mom,” Hughie said softly as he let go of Butcher’s hand and went to greet his mom. Her smile turned soft at the sight of her son, and Butcher could see just how much mother and son loved each other.

“Hughie,” she said once Hughie was in front of her, holding his face in her hands. “It's been too long.”

“I know mom,” Hughie replied, apologetic, as he went on to hug his mom. They held each other tightly, and Butcher felt a knot in his chest. They let each other go, but Hughie remained by her side. 

“Maggie, you’re home early,” Hugh said as he approached his wife and kissed her tenderly, with love and adoration written in his eyes.

“I couldn’t miss Hughie coming home, love,” Maggie replied, looking at her husband like Becca used to look at him. Butcher had to look away at the sight, memories threatening to overwhelm him.

“Maggie, this is Billy,” Hughie’s Pops said, breaking the moment between spouses. Butcher tensed when a hand was placed in his elbow as if the owner had known Butcher wanted to run. “Hughie’s boyfriend.”

Maggie Campbell said nothing, just lifting one of her perfectly drawn eyebrows in questioning. Hughie coughed and blushed, looking at his Grandpa like he had betrayed him. 

“Mom, I’d like you to meet Billy Butcher,” Hughie said with a nervous smile as he went to stand next to Butcher. Instinctively, Butcher grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze, and some of the nervousness left his body. “Billy, I’d like you to meet my mom, Maggie Campbell.”

The woman offered nothing, she just looked at Butcher like he was an enigma ready to be solved. Like she could just see the inside of his soul and know his innermost darkest secrets. Butcher had never been so afraid.

She turned to look at Hughie and sighed. To Butcher it meant nothing, but whatever that was, it made Hughie tensed up and he crossed his arms, looking directly at his mother with defiance in his eyes. The hand on his elbow tightened and Butcher felt like he couldn’t breathe.

The room was at a standstill, and Butcher had nowhere to run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Hughie's Pops is named Cas. Yes, blame my brain that needs motivation to go on. 
> 
> Next guest is Uncle Johnny and I really can't wait for you guys to read that chapter. 
> 
> Also, I don't know if I accurately described Hughie's childhood home, so if you are wondering which image I had in mind, it's [this one](https://www.jamesedition.com/real_estate/poughquag-ny-usa/sugar-maple-farm-10668409).


	6. Chapter Six

“This is supposed to be a reunion, right?” A loud voice called from the entrance of the living room, breaking the tense moment between Hughie and his mom. In the door was Uncle Johnny with a suitcase hanging from his shoulder and a red jacket in his hand. He had a huge grin on his face, uncaring about the moment he had just interrupted.

And knowing the man, Hughie was sure he had done so on purpose. 

Uncle Johnny was his mom’s older brother. He lived in Los Angeles, California with his husband and four children, who usually accompanied him on his trips to visit his sister. However, this time it seemed it was just him as usually his husband and children weren’t far behind.

“You certainly like to make an entrance, Johnny,” his mom said with a smile, dropping her arms as she walked towards her brother to give him a hug. Side by side, they looked nothing alike, with Uncle Johnny’s blond hair contrasting directly with his mom’s darker brown hair. However, it was the eyes that showcased the fact that they were siblings, as both of them had the same cerulean eyes in the exact same shape. A trait that had been passed down to Hughie.

“Johnny! I’m glad you could make it!” his dad exclaimed, opening his arms to welcome the larger men in them.

Uncle Johnny tackled his Dad in a hug, making the other man laugh. Looking at them side by side, you wouldn’t think they got along, with his dad looking like a librarian, as a small middle aged guy with light brown hair and small brown eyes, while his Uncle was this large muscular man, who almost seemed to burst out of his shirt and made him look intimidating and menacing. Many times Hughie had heard men and women flirt with his Uncle Johnny, much to the amusement of the man and the discontent of his husband. 

“And who’s this?” Uncle Johnny asked as he separated from his dad, an arm resting on his dad’s shoulders. He was looking at Butcher with a lazy smile. Looks like he had picked up on the tension, because, to an outsider, he would look relaxed and easy going, but years of knowing him told Hughie he was ready to kick Butcher’s ass if necessary. And no matter what Butcher said, even if Uncle Johnny was older by at least 10 years he could and would break him.

“I’m Billy Butcher,” Butcher said, stretching his hand towards him. “Hughie’s…”

“He’s my fiancé!” Hughie almost shouted, making everyone wince. He had no idea why he was suddenly so nervous, but seeing Uncle Johnny made everything seem somewhat even more real than just talking to his parents. 

Maybe it was because Uncle Johnny was the closest Hughie had to a best friend while growing up or the fact that even if his parents couldn’t see at times the real Hughie, his uncle always managed to do so. If there was one person Hughie couldn’t lie to, was his uncle.

As in response to Hughie’s inner monologue, Uncle Johnny lifted an eyebrow in questioning. A huge weight settled in his stomach, making him uneasy. Guess he hadn’t actually thought it through.

“So,” Uncle Johnny said, looking at Butcher, “do you prefer being called Billy, Butcher or Real Smug Asshole? We’ve heard it both ways.”

“Johnny!” his dad said, scandalised. His mom’s lips twitched, as if trying to contain a smile, while Pops merely rolled his eyes, used to Uncle Johnny’s behaviour. 

“In fact,” Uncle Johnny continued, as if he hadn’t heard his dad, “we’ve heard many names over the years.”

“He’s kidding, of course,” his dad said after an awkward chuckle. Uncle Johnny just rolled his eyes, but smiled nonetheless. 

“Of course,” Butcher replied, not making any attempts at greeting the newcomer. “But I prefer Butcher, actually.”

…

The blond guy who was next to Hughie’s dad didn’t trust him. Big surprise. Butcher was used to it by now. He was just glad that whatever that had happened between Hughie and his mum was finally over. He felt his hand empty from when Hughie had dropped it when the guy came in. 

“Then, Butcher,” the blond said with sarcasm etched in his voice, “welcome to the family. I’m Johnny, Hughie’s uncle.”

“Nice to meet you,” he said, equally sarcastic, making the other man grin. 

“I wouldn’t go there just yet, Johnny,” Hughie’s mom said from where she was standing, arms folded and the same look she had when she first saw him. “Many things can happen during an engagement.”

“Mom!” Hughie hissed, red appearing on his cheeks. 

So, whatever had happened between them wasn’t over. Perfect. 

“I’m not saying any lies, Hughie,” his mum said, uncrossing her arms and walking towards her son. “Is just… this thing…”

“I’m marrying Butcher, whether you like it or not, Mom,” Hughie said with finality as he stepped away from his mother and crossed his arms. Butcher saw the man who had confronted him outside the immigration office and didn’t fight the smile that appeared on his face. 

“When did this all begin?” she asked him, crossing her arms as well, challenging Hughie.

“A year ago, during the  Frankfurt Fair.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Didn’t see the need until it was serious.”

“And is it?” she asked, dropping her arms and looking at Hughie directly in the eyes. She took a step closer and from where he was standing, Butcher could see that they shared the same fierce look in their eyes. 

“As it can be,” Hughie said, dropping his arms as well, but not the challenge in his eyes.

A warm sensation spread itself throughout Butcher’s body, so he forced himself to look away. There were some things he wasn’t ready to deal with. The hand on his elbow tightened, and he was reminded of Hughie’s Pops by his side.

The man was looking at him with something lying underneath the surface of his eyes, but he had remained quiet, just assessing Butcher. It was like nothing he had ever experienced. And as such he didn’t know how to react.

Before he could react, however, Hughie’s mum sighed and she took her son by the shoulders.

“I love you, Hughie,” she said before placing a kiss on his forehead. She turned to look at Butcher and smiled.  “Your room is just upstairs, let me take you while my husband prepares dinner.”

And really, how could Butcher say no to that when the woman in front of him wasn’t really asking to begin with?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... this is what happens when you write depressed kidos. Not sure even if its good or if i like it but, a promise is a promise and it's technically tuesday so... 
> 
> hope you're all well


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